


elegy for a broken heart

by nea_writes



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 23:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12444144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nea_writes/pseuds/nea_writes
Summary: Kanda had failed Allen once in Paris. He wouldn't again.The glide as Mugen slid free was obscenely loud, but Kanda squeezed his eyes shut, pulling the sword entirely out. With a flick of his wrist he gripped the handle securely, blade now positioned towards him.He had promised, he had sworn, he had pledged an oath of blood to God and Innocence and to the boy in his arms.He couldn't back down now, no matter the ache in his heart.





	elegy for a broken heart

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up thinking of Kanda being forced to call Allen by his name to bring him back and then immediately wrote all this on my phone. Shout out to Sam for always encouraging me with the yullens ♥
> 
> Originally titled, elegy for the broken-hearted. 
> 
> Following this idea that Allen, Johnny, Kanda, and (maybe?) Tiedoll travel together after the current events in 226. Of course, neither the Noah nor the Order are going to let them escape that easily.

Hidden behind a fallen chunk of wall, Kanda struggled to contain his frustration. The city they were in was empty of anyone but them, the Order, and the Noah, citizens either dead from Akuma or by Noah, and Kanda himself hadn't come away from the altercation whole. The sky was a mirthful blue, white clouds providing the occasional cover from the slowly encroaching summer heat, but the breeze still smelled like spring.

He desperately looked around, searching for Johnny. There, a good twenty paces away, was a hint of Johnny's hair peeking out from some huge chunk of debris. Hesitantly, Kanda glanced down at the burden in his arms.

Allen's breathing was soft, warm where it exhaled against Kanda's neck. His face was lax, lashes resting against cheeks smudged with ashes and dirt, blood dried on his temple. His head lolled against Kanda's shoulder loosely, a disturbing image.

Kanda glanced again towards Johnny, fingers curling tight over Allen's shoulder and around his waist, supporting his limp body as best he could with one useful arm.

His regeneration was taking its sweet time, and Kanda could bitterly admit that he couldn't carry Allen to Johnny or Johnny to Allen.

Once again he sought Allen's face, sweet with sleep, as he rested fully against Kanda's chest, sitting in the circle of Kanda's legs.

When the Fourteenth had collapsed, Kanda had rushed to grab Allen before he fell without remorse on the stubble ridden cobblestone road. In that moment of panic, Kanda had forgotten about the laceration that spanned his entire forearm. Allen's sudden weight was enough to send Kanda falling backwards, Allen safely cradled in his arms.

Time was running out. It was only a matter of minutes before the Noah or the Order found them, hidden as they were behind a large broken chunk of wall, not to mention the ticking clock on how long Neah would stay unconscious.

It was just a name. It didn't mean anything to Kanda. If Johnny could do it, then surely Kanda could.

"Beansprout," Kanda said, startled to find his voice rough and small. He cleared his throat, shifting to free the arm around Allen's waist. It was the bleeding one, but Kanda couldn't care less if Allen's clothes got ruined. The wound was finally clotting, though, and Kanda estimated that it would be fully healed in ten minutes' time.

Refusing to acknowledge the tightness in his chest, Kanda reached for Allen's face. "Hey," he said again, voice clearer now but not too loud, mindful of their pursuers. "Beansprout, wake up!"

Allen hummed — or was it Neah?

The thought struck panic through Kanda's already high-strung nerves, and all hesitation disappeared as he cupped Allen's face, aware despite it all of how warm Allen was. "You idiot, this isn’t the time to be sleeping! Wake up!"

Nothing but a sigh.

Kanda thumbed the scar on Allen's cheek, following the line under his eyes. "If you make me ask again, I'll kick your ass," Kanda threatened.

Phantom like, he could almost hear Allen's acerbic response.

_'Do you really think that's going to encourage me to wake up? Stupid Kanda! Why can't you be nice?'_

Even bleeding out Kanda somehow still found the gall to be pissed. Nice? When was Kanda ever nice?

Allen's breath puffed hot against Kanda's neck, reminding him that time waited for no one.

"Come on," Kanda said, refusing to beg. "Wake the fuck up, beansprout!"

No response. Dread curled along Kanda's ribs, threatening to suffocate him. What if it was too late? What if Neah came back? What if Allen opened his eyes, and all Kanda saw was damning gold?

It worked in Paris, it worked for Johnny — why wasn't it working for Kanda, now?

His fingers dipped into Allen's hair. For one blissfully empty moment, he marveled at how soft it was.

Kanda glanced over Allen's face — at the bridge of his nose, freckles sprinkled there now that summer was near, his white lashes, the pink of his scar, the cupid's bow of his lips, the translucent skin of his eyes. Kanda darted his gaze away, knowing himself that it was too heavy, too much, too loaded, but dragging it back to Allen anyways.

Licking his lips, Kanda parted them, closed his eyes as he hesitated, then focused on Allen's sleeping face.

"Allen," Kanda said, holding his breath.

Nothing.

"Allen," Kanda called, louder. He cupped Allen's cheek, tilting his face up. "Allen, _you asshole,_ wake up!"

"Isn't this what you always wanted?" Kanda demanded, ignoring the tremble in his fingertips as Allen continued to sleep. "It's your own goddamn name and you won't even answer to it!"

The force of his words shifted stray strands of Allen's hair, and Kanda bowed his head over Allen's slumbering figure. He tucked Allen against his shoulder, struggling to contain the trembling up his spine.

"Come on," Kanda begged. He'd known. He'd always known. Kanda wasn't meant for this. He didn't have Johnny's blind enthusiasm or Lenalee's fierce determination. Kanda had learned the hard way that fate bowed to no one, no matter how you begged.

With his left hand cupping the back of Allen's head, holding him against Kanda, he thumbed the tie off Mugen's scabbard, hitching the sword free.

Kanda had failed Allen once in Paris. He wouldn't again.

The glide as Mugen slid free was obscenely loud, but Kanda squeezed his eyes shut, pulling the sword entirely out. With a flick of his wrist he gripped the handle securely, blade now positioned towards him.

He had promised, he had sworn, he had pledged an oath of blood to God and Innocence and to the boy in his arms.

He couldn't back down now, no matter the ache in his heart.

Carefully, Kanda placed the tip against Allen's back. Suddenly, he realized he could feel Allen's heart beat against his chest, and he gritted his teeth, hating God and the Fourteenth and Innocence and, most of all, hating Allen Walker, for always demanding everything he could of Kanda, including his heart.

This was a difficult position, and ultimately a sentimental one. Kanda could just lay Allen on his back, sever him clean through. There was no reason to keep Allen tucked against him, breath warm on his neck, hair soft against his cheek, smelling like crisp spring air, the woods, fire and ashes.

Kanda breathed in deep, hating himself for the doubt and hesitation.

One last time, he tried.

With a voice too soft and too full of grief, Kanda said _, "Allen."_

It felt more like a goodbye.

He would not close his eyes. He wouldn’t shy away from what he was about to commit. He owed Allen this — he owed him so much more, and Kanda was bitterly aware of how short he fell.

Tightening his grip on Mugen's handle, Kanda dug his fingers through Allen's hair, burying his face into white locks as he steadied his breathing.

He lifted his sword — and Allen inhaled sharply.

Kanda had never dropped Mugen as carelessly as he did then, the blade falling with a noisy clatter as Kanda froze.

In the crook between Kanda's neck and shoulder Allen hummed, shifting awake.

Relief bloomed within Kanda's heart, ran his veins through with longing, stole his breath with hope. He knew, he knew damn well that it could be the Fourteenth, that Allen could be long gone, but the heart was a fool.

He tugged Allen back, ignoring the sleepy mumbles as he devoured Allen's expression.

 _No,_ Kanda thought, heart hammering. _This isn't the Fourteenth. It's him. It's Allen. He's here._

_Allen's back._

Allen reached up between them to rub at his eyes, disoriented, holding back a yawn as he slowly focused on Kanda, wincing when the pass of his hand disturbed the cut on his temple.

Blinking, Allen sought Kanda's eyes through his sleepy haze and mumbled, "…Kanda?"

Kanda met startled gray eyes, framed by all that white hair, and felt his heart wrench.

He hadn't realized the pain of a broken heart until Allen called his name, filling it with such overwhelming yearning that Kanda couldn't even utter a word, struggling to contain it all.

How stupid.

He never learned his lesson.

Allen was destined to die, by either the Noah's hand, the Innocence burning through all that he is, or even by Kanda's own blade, and here Kanda was, consumed by this ardent ache dancing between his ribs.

"Kanda, what…?"

Biting back on his teeth, Kanda forced his thoughts away. Now wasn't the time for that.

Allen was slowly coming to himself, and Kanda recognized the panic swelling in his chest, breathing heavy and eyes flickering around to a world he couldn't recognize.

"What happened? Where— where am I? Did something— did I—" Allen bit the words off, begging Kanda with his gaze alone to tell him that everything was alright. He gripped Kanda's jacket, fingers digging in.

"No one's hurt," Kanda said, voice gruff. It was as if time had slowed down. All Kanda could think of was laughter in cavernous walls, smiles full of lies, the smell of ashes and fire and grief. "We fought with the Order again."

"The Order?" Allen asked, alarmed. He shifted forward, too close, too near, too much. Kanda's grip on Allen's waist tightened, but Allen didn't notice. "Is anyone— is Lenalee, or, or Krory, or Timothy—"

"No," Kanda bit out. "Just Finders."

Allen's relief was nearly palpable, and he laughed breathlessly as the tension cut his shoulders loose. "Good," Allen murmured, "good, I'm so glad, I—"

His words broke on tears and despite all their fights, all their anger, all the times Kanda had disparaged him, Allen still collapsed against his chest, sobbing.

Just barely, Kanda heard senseless murmurs, the same words repeated — _I'm back, I'm back, I thought I'd stay there forever_ —

Kanda had thought so, too. He'd been prepared for it.

When Kanda moved to encircle Allen more firmly in his arms, Allen took his encouragement and surged forward, tucking his face into Kanda's neck and wrapping his arms around Kanda's shoulders.

Babbling, breath hitching on tears, Allen said, "Thank you, thank you, Kanda you called for me, you called my name. Thank you."

Soon, he'd pull Allen back. He'd make Allen wipe his tears, he'd pick his sword back up, together they'd face the war hellbent on destroying them both. Soon, he'd cage his wayward heart and smother the ache there.

For now, he wrapped his arms securely around Allen and buried his face into his shoulder, relief still singing in his veins and in his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> nea_chi | twitter (currently @spookyalma for the month of october!)  
> nea-writes | tumblr


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